


This Changes Nothing

by deviouskirin



Category: Chicago Blackhawks - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviouskirin/pseuds/deviouskirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor likes Brent. Brent doesn't realize they're dating. Duncan threatens extreme bodily harm (in the nicest way he can).</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Changes Nothing

Brent's stomach flips, and he feels more jittery now than he had after they'd stumbled off the Tilt-o-Whirl for the sixth time. Viktor is grinning at him, though it starts to fade the longer they stand there, the silence slowly turning awkward.

"Hey, if you don't want it," Viktor says, and Brent snatches the stuffed bear out of his hands before it can be withdrawn, clutching it to his chest like it's the most precious thing ever created.

"No, I do," he assures the younger man, wringing his fingers through the soft- if hideous- red fur. "I- thanks."

Viktor glances away, but not before Brent sees the shy smile, and suddenly it feels like Brent's walking on air.

* * * 

The restaurant is loud and chaotic, and they're all high off their latest win. There's a lot of back slapping and praise going around the table, and food seems to be an afterthought. Eating is something that interferes with the night's festivities, not the purpose for the outing. It's hard to concentrate on much beyond the debate over who had the best goal/check/pass, but Viktor still smiles over at Brent when he notices the extra tomatoes that magically appeared on his plate, and Brent has to fake a choke when Sharpie asks him why his face has gone red.

* * *

Moving was his worst idea _ever_ , Brent decides, gripping the back of the couch until his fingers go white and start to tingle. The world has gone all wobbly and bright, with light swimming in and out of things it really shouldn't be able to pass through, like the bricks of the fireplace. His head throbs in time with his pulse, and Brent's not sure if he'll puke before it explodes in a gooey mess or not.

"Jesus," Viktor sighs, pausing on the stairs when he notices Brent isn't where he'd left him, less than two minutes ago. "You do realize you have a concussion, right?"

"Thirsty," Brent manages, and he's not pouting, stop looking at him like that, he's _not_.

"And you couldn't have waited five seconds? Or texted me?"

Viktor sounds gruff, but his touch is gentle when he takes a hold of Brent's bicep, offering support without being too cloying about it. They shuffle back around to the front of the couch, and unlike the last person who'd taken care of him during a concussion (his mom), Viktor's been there and just braces himself, lets Brent lower himself down onto the cushions rather than hurrying him. Once he gets settled, Viktor hands him the remote and his cell phone (with a rather pointy look, Brent notices) and heads into the kitchen to get him a drink.

Concussions will always suck, but Brent thinks this one's not so bad, with Viktor there to card his fingers through his hair and croon soft things when the pain keeps him awake. And if Brent plays up that pain just a little to get that contact back, well, that's not his fault. 

He has a concussion, and can't be held accountable for his actions.

* * *

"Hey, can we talk for a minute?" Duncan asks after practice, nodding Viktor over to the other side of the ice, away from the guys filing back towards the locker rooms.

"So..." Viktor drawls out when the silence gets a little too heavy, watching Duncan with wary eyes. They're friendly, yes, but they haven't really hung out (or even just talked much) on their own, and he really has no idea what to expect from this new development. 

"Seabs is...well, he's my best friend," Duncan says softly, picking at the tape on his stick. "I love him, and I just wanted to give you a warning: if you hurt him, I will use every single thing I've ever learned about serial killers to make you miserable before you die."

Viktor blinks, and tries really hard not to squeak in fear. He's been threatened before (he is, after all, a hockey player), and by bigger and meaner looking guys than Duncan Keith. But the look on Duncan's face scares the ever loving shit out of him. He glances over his shoulder and catches sight of Brent, who's watching them with a confused smile. Viktor waves, before turning back and meeting Duncan's gaze.

"If I hurt him, I'll bring the plastic sheeting."

Duncan's obviously confused for a second before he laughs, and while the slap he lays on Viktor's shoulder is a little heavy handed, it's also in good spirits.

"I'll hold you to that," he chuckles as he skates away.

* * *

He expects it to be really awkward. They've hung out and done things together before, but it's never been in the context of an actual date, and he's worried. He even spends an hour and a half trying to figure out what to wear (with Duncan unhelpfully sending him texts of horrible suggestions, the bastard), and another twenty minutes worrying that he's over/under dressed.

But as they're arguing over who gets to pay the check, Brent realizes that all his fretting was for nothing. 

It feels the same as it always has. They still talk about the same things, laugh at the same stupid stuff, and it's not awkward at all. Nothing's different, except that when Viktor drops him off at home (and walks him to the door, the same way he's done every other time before), Brent doesn't worry about mixed signals when he leans in for a kiss. Viktor hums against his lips, slides his hands around Brent's hips, and yeah, okay, this has changed. This is different.

It's a good change, he decides, as his stomach flutters and his eyes drift closed. He really likes this change.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my LJ way back, and was prompted by and written for my friend Becks. Please, feel free to leave thoughts and feelings and tips on things that could be improved!
> 
> Standard Disclaimer: don't own, no profits made, etc.


End file.
